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Opie, Amelia: To Winter
Power of the wful wind, whose hollow blast
Hurls desolation wide, thy sway I hail!
Thou o'er the scene around can'st beauties cast,
Superior far to aught that Summer's gale

Can, in the ripening year, to bloom awake;
To view thy majestry, the cheerful tale,
The dance, the festive song, I, pleased, forsake;
And here, thy power and thy attractions own,

Now the pale regent of thy splendid night
Decks with her yellow rays thy snowy throne;
Richly her beams on Summer's mantle light,

Richly they gild chill Autumn's tawny vest
But, ah! to me they shine more chastely bright,
Spangling the icy robe that wraps thy breast.

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